Title: Opened Another Can of Worms
Author: gaudy night
Rating: G
Summary: Light-hearted ficlet set between Moving Day and Poker Face. Pre-slash Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne.
A/N: Cliché #5 in my NaNoWriMo series, Jim Gordon’s Life As a Series of Clichés. Serious sounding title; not so serious stories.
Word Count: 552

On Sunday morning, Bruce Wayne barged into Jim Gordon’s apartment, dragged him out of bed, ransacked his closet, threw a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at him, and pushed him into the elevator. Bruce was already dressed for the morning’s activity, decked out in gym shorts and matching sweatshirt. He pressed the button for the first floor, and the elevator began moving downward. They arrived at their destination almost immediately, and Bruce pulled Gordon down the hallway toward the fitness center.

Gordon grumbled the entire time, his muscles still aching from the day before when the two of them had moved all his possessions into his new apartment, which included several pieces of bedroom and kitchen furniture and that damn couch. His lower back muscles protested when he stretched. He pulled back immediately. He really wished he hadn’t committed to this ridiculous experiment, but he’d promised Bruce he’d give it a try.

They walked into the fitness center where a perky young lady named Becky welcomed them, handed them a water bottled, and towels. “Mr. Gordon, would you like to be assigned a personal trainer? Cindy is available right now if you’d like.” She pointed to another young lady standing behind the counter who smiled at Gordon.

Bruce nodded, “Yes, he would, Becky.”

“No, I don’t,” Gordon responded automatically.

Bruce said, “You really should, Jim. Cindy could help you develop and implement a daily regiment. She’ll work one-on-on with you and help you work toward your fitness goals. She can teach you how to do exercises correctly, keep you motivated.” Both Cindy and Becky nodded enthusiastically.

“Excuse us for a moment, ladies.” Gordon pulled Bruce a few feet away. He whispered, “I don’t want a woman being my personal trainer. What about people think?”

Bruce whispered back, “That’s hardly politically correct of you, Commissioner. What would Montoya say?”

Jim hissed back, “Exactly. A man in my position. What would Barbara say?”

Bruce shrugged. “Why do you care what she thinks?”

“She’s still the mother of my children.”

“Look, Gordon, I’m not asking you to make a life-changing decision here.” Bruce sighed. “Fine. Would you prefer having a man instead to show you the ropes?”

“Yes.”

Bruce smiled, no, positively leered at him. Gordon’s eyes widened. Damn this man.

He corrected himself, “Er, I mean, no. I’ll do it myself.”

“Do it yourself,” Bruce echoed.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Gordon was getting flustered. It was too early for such shenanigans.

“Oh, so you like to do it yourself.”

Realization dawned, and Gordon turned red. “I’m leaving right now.”

“A quickie, eh, Gordon?”

Gordon almost reached the door when Bruce reached to stop him. “Jim, I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I’m just being silly. Promise not to do it again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers to show his sincerity.

Gordon turned to face him. He looked at him accusingly, “You were never a Boy Scout. You’re supposed to raise your right hand.”

“Guilty as charged, but I do know my way around these machines. Come on, I’ll show you. We’ll go at a slow pace.” Bruce led him back into the fitness center, and waived off the two ladies.

“Promise?” Gordon looked at him suspiciously.

“Scout’s honor.”

Gordon picked up his towel and threw it at Bruce’s face.